


Where There’s Love...

by Anxiety_Baker02



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Christmas, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Good Peter Hale, Hale Family Feels, I mean, JUST, Like its a Christmas party, M/M, Marriage Proposal, No supernatural shenanigans, SO MUCH FLUFF, Stilinski Family Feels, angst if you squint really hard?, ish, maybe? - Freeform, over abundance of hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxiety_Baker02/pseuds/Anxiety_Baker02
Summary: Peter shook his head, his brow furrowed. “No, not...he’s back.”By now everyone in the loft was watching the interaction with high apprehension. Peter was like 99.999% sane now, but once and awhile he had a lapse, an episode. It usually ended with blood- almost always Peter’s- and then Peter hiding away from the pack for a week or two.“Who’s back?” Lydia asked cautiously.“Derek,” Peter said like it was obvious. “Stiles brought Derek back. He’s himself again.”
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Cora Hale/Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, implied Chris Argent/Peter Hale
Comments: 21
Kudos: 600





	Where There’s Love...

**Author's Note:**

> So this was just meant to be some Peter being sweet to Sterek, but it kinda escalated. Honestly I didn’t think this was 2k, and then I realized it was over 6k and I just...oops?  
> Anyway, here’s 6k of tooth-rotting fluff and feels. Enjoy, and Happy New Year!

Stiles poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, smacking a sticky note down on the page and scribbling down a comment, making sure that the ink didn’t bleed through- it was a two-hundred-year-old tome on the history of pack politics the size of his head, incredibly valuable, and by far his favorite Christmas gift.

Considering the fact that it weighed about fifty pounds, it shouldn’t have been easy for Derek to steal from him with one hand, but by the same token, Derek was a werewolf.

“Hey,” Stiles complained. “I was reading that!”

“You've been reading it for the last hour and a half,” Derek countered. 

“Because it’s interesting!”

“You’re at a Christmas party surrounded by werewolves, and you’re reading a book,” Derek said flatly, but his eyes were shining. “

“Yes I am,” Stiles agreed, standing up to try and snatch the book back. The party was in full swing around them, the pack and pack-adjacent sparing only a few glances to their antics.

Derek raised it above his head, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Nope, no more. It’s only seven o’clock, come on. Celebrate with your pack; you’re the one who’s always saying we need to bond. You can read after the party.”

“We’ve been bonding consistently for the last five years,” Stiles protested. “Also, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

He regretted his words immediately when Derek narrowed his eyes, his smirk widening. 

“But Stiles,” he said, lowering his voice and turning his smirk into something more sincere that Stiles knew was bullshit, looking at Stiles through his lashes. “It’s my birthday. You can’t ignore me on my birthday.”

Stiles glared at him, thumping him on the chest, and Derek laughed. 

“I hate you,” Stiles said. 

Derek’s smirk was back. “No you don’t.”

“Shut up, yes I do.”

“That was a lie,” Derek gloated, grinning.

“Just give me my book,” Stiles grumbled, reaching for where Derek still had it over his head.

“Nuh-uh.” Derek backed up slowly, teasingly waving it over his head.

Stiles followed him. “If you didn’t want me to read it you shouldn’t have given it to me!”

“Well maybe I didn’t think you’d choose the book over your boyfriend on his birthday.”

Stiles lunged forward, reaching, but Derek simply darted backwards, flashing his eyes blue. 

“I would think after dating me for three years you’d know me better than that,” Stiles retorted. “Also, not fair, I paid _plenty_ of attention to you this morning when I woke you up. And in the shower. And after breakfast!”

“Ew!” Scott shouted, clapping a hand over his ears.

Stiles waggled his eyebrows at him before turning back to Derek. 

“And after lunch,” Derek smirked.

“Exactly!” Stiles cried. “So let me enjoy my Christmas present in peace, dammit.”

“Not during the party,” Derek shook his head, still grinning at Stiles.

Stiles made another grab for the book, but Derek just held it higher. 

Stiles lost his balance, toppling forward into his boyfriend. One of Derek’s arms wrapped around his waist, steadying him, and Stiles fought the grin that was trying to break across his face. He braced his hands on Derek’s shoulders and stood on his tiptoes, stretching his arm out.

“Ah ah ah,” Derek chastised.

Stiles rolled his eyes, huffing. “What now?”

A shit-eating grin spread across Derek’s face as he nodded his chin, looking up.

Stiles followed his gaze, mouth dropping open when he saw the homemade paper mistletoe that had been hung in the doorway. 

“Sneaky,” he commented, poorly hiding the admiration in his voice, narrowing his eyes at the smug werewolf.

“Isn’t there some sort of tradition that goes with mistletoe?” Derek asked innocently, tipping his head slightly. “I mean, I was never around it much growing up, but I’ve heard stories.”

“Yeah yeah, real smooth, Sourwolf. Shut up and kiss me,” Stiles murmured, giving up on the book and tugging Derek in by the collar.

He kissed the smug look off of Derek’s face, wrapping one arm around his neck and sliding his hand into the taller man’s hair. He felt Derek lower the arm holding his book and wrap it around his waist, pulling him closer, and then the book was all but forgotten. 

He pulled away slowly, savoring the feel of Derek’s lips against his, but it didn’t matter because as soon as Derek opened his eyes and Stiles saw that they were glowing blue he groaned and dove right back in. 

Derek growled softly, clutching Stiles closer, and Stiles gasped slightly. Derek used this as an opportunity to slide his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles had to fight to keep his knees from buckling. 

He hummed into Derek’s mouth, debating the pros and cons of jumping him then and there. He had just decided on con, because neither of them were much for exhibitionism, when something hard hit him in the head, and based on Derek’s jerk and the preceding whack, he had been hit too.

“Ow! Hey!” Stiles complained, disentangling himself from Derek as much as he could- the werewolf still had a solid one-armed grip on his waist- and glaring at Lydia.

“A rolled-up magazine, really Lydia?” Derek asked with a raised eyebrow.

Lydia raised her own perfectly groomed brows. “Getting too heated,” she said primly. “We hear about your sex life enough, no one needs to see it.”

Stiles stuck his tongue out at her, before turning back to Derek, who was smirking again, looking like the cat who got the canary- wolf who got the rabbit? Whatever. 

“You seem way too proud of yourself,” he decided, but he wound both arms back around Derek’s neck.

“Hmm, well, I’ve got you,” Derek hummed. “I think that’s something to be proud of.”

Stiles groaned, dropping his flaming face onto Derek’s shoulder. “Stop,” he whined. “You’re not allowed to be smug and romantic at the same time, it’s not good for my heart. We’ve talked about this.”

Derek chuckled, and Stiles could feel the vibrations through his chest. He lifted his gaze and met Derek’s eyes. He couldn’t help but leaning in to kiss him quickly. 

“Love you, Derek.”

Derek beamed. “Love you too, Stiles.”

Derek pecked him again, pulling away with a grin.

Stiles smacked him on the shoulder, rolling his eyes fondly. “Don’t be so cocky.”

“But I thought you loved my-”

Stiles slapped a hand over Derek’s mouth. Derek growled, the vibrations travelling up Stiles’ arm. “I can’t decide whether I’m horrified at the monster I’ve created or proud that you were going to say that.”

Derek moved his lips and Stiles fully expected him to lick his hand, so he was surprised when Derek just kissed it instead. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed, moving his hand and placing a kiss on Derek’s cheek. “Sap.”

“Peter, are you okay?” He heard Cora asked.

He and Derek both turned to see Peter staring at them, his mouth halfway open, looking absolutely _gutted._

“Whoa, dude, what’s wrong?”

“You…” Peter said.

Stiles exchanged a glance with Derek, frowning. “Me?”

Peter shook his head, his brow furrowed. “No, not...he’s back.”

By now everyone in the loft was watching the interaction with high apprehension. Peter was like 99.999% sane now, but once and awhile he had a lapse, an episode. It usually ended with blood- almost always Peter’s- and then Peter hiding away from the pack for a week or two. 

“Who’s back?” Lydia asked cautiously. 

“Derek,” Peter said like it was obvious. “Stiles brought Derek back. He’s himself again.”

Derek rubbed a hand down Stiles’ back before moving to set the book down. “Peter, do you want to sit down? I’ve been here the whole time.”

Peter blinked, shaking himself slightly. “No, I know. That’s not what I meant. I’m not having an episode, I promise.”

Stiles looked at Scott, who shrugged. 

“Okay,” Peter said, and he sounded a little more aware now. “Sorry, I’m not… I’m not doing this right. Derek, I’m going to go up to Stiles, please don’t rip my head off.”

Derek looked to Stiles, who shrugged. Peter approached him, looking at him seriously. 

“Derek hasn’t been himself in about fifteen years or so. Derek, don’t argue, just listen, because you haven’t.”

“I grew up,” Derek said defensively, furrowing his eyebrows.

“No, you went through some shit times is what happened. Stiles, listen to me. I’m trying to thank you.”

Stiles’ eyebrows did their best to climb into his hairline. “For what?”

“Bringing Derek back. For the last fifteen years he’s been a shell of his former self. I knew when I met you that you were special, despite my inhibited mindset at the time. There’s a reason you’re my favorite.”

Stiles let his lips quirk up at the admission. He _knew_ he was Peter’s favorite. 

“Do you remember when I told you that Derek was a lot like Scott when he was younger?”

Stiles nodded. 

“When Derek was younger he was a cocky, happy-go-lucky basketball star who saw the best in everyone. You guys played a game of basketball last week. I know that he’s been shooting hoops by himself, and I know he’s been teaching you how to play, Stiles, for a few months now. I haven’t seen him play basketball since…” he trailed off, looking to Derek for permission. 

Derek blinked rapidly a few times, nodding. “I quit the team when Paige died,” he said softly. “I didn’t even notice… I hadn’t realized it was the first time I’ve played since.”

Stiles saw emotion fill his eyes and he walked over, taking Stiles’ hand in his and squeezing. Stiles smiled at him, patting his arm with his free hand.

Peter smiled at the both of them, his eyes bright.   
“After my recovery I saw the way that you treated my nephew,” he continued. “You didn’t take any of his shit, you challenged him, you forced him into the light when all he wanted was to hide in the dark. You never let him give up no matter how much he tried. You never let him push you away. When you started dating, I started to see glimpses of the confident, happy person he used to be before life dealt him a crap hand. Cora?”

Cora blinked, apparently not expecting to be brought into the conversation, but she recovered quickly. “No, he’s right. Derek hasn’t been this happy in ages. I don’t remember a lot of specifics from before the fire, but even I can tell that he’s back to the way he was.”

“I’ve been watching,” Peter agreed, and if Stiles didn’t know how Peter’s mind worked by now that would have been much creepier. “And not once in the past five months have I seen him hide in his shell. Hell, I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen him this happy, before _or_ after. So, thank you for saving my nephew.”

Stiles blinked a few times, sparing a quick glance at a shocked Derek before swallowing around the lump in his throat. He sniffed and nodded a few times, at a complete loss for what to say.

Peter stepped forward, opening his arms slightly, and Stiles stepped into them, wrapping his arms around the werewolf. God, if sixteen-year-old him could see him now, hugging the insane werewolf that tried to kill them all numerous times, and dating the scary, broody werewolf that had kinda stalked them, he probably would have checked himself into Eichen House.

Now, though, Stiles just tightened his arms around Peter.

“Thank you,” Peter whispered again, before patting Stiles’ back and pulling away, turning to Derek.

Before he could even offer a hug, Derek lunged forward and wrapped his arms around his uncle, pushing his face into his neck.

Stiles saw Peter blink a few times before returning the hug, squeezing his eyes shut and tightening his arms around his nephew.

It had been a long time since someone hugged him first, Stiles mused, and he made a mental note to fix that. Peter was a surprisingly good hugger for an undead, previously-insane-and-murderous werewolf.

Stiles jumped slightly when a hand landed on his own shoulder and he turned his head to see his father standing there, smiling at him. He didn’t say anything, just pulled Stiles into a one-armed side-hug, squeezing him once. Stiles smiled at him and patted his shoulder, and he knew that he didn’t need to say anything. His dad was the best. 

“I know that nothing I do can ever fix the past; what I’ve done and all the pain I’ve caused,” Peter murmured, mostly to Derek. “And I know that it’s meaningless, but I’ve never actually said it, so...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, kid.”

Stiles felt his own lips pull up at the nickname- Derek had told him that Peter used to call him that, and it drove him nuts when he was little. Now, though, he didn’t seem to mind, if the way his arms tightened briefly around Peter before finally releasing him. 

His eyes were bright, Stiles could see, and he rested a hand on his uncle’s shoulder and nodded. 

Peter cleared his throat, nodding towards Stiles. “He’s a good one, Derek. Don’t let him slip away.”

Stiles beamed, and Derek flushed. “I’m not planning on it,” he muttered, locking eyes with Stiles.

Stiles felt his ears burn, but he smiled at Derek. 

“Alright,” Peter said, clapping his hands together. “I think that’s enough emotion from me for the next month or so, so I’ll just head out. Merry Christmas, everyone, and happy birthday, kid.” 

He patted Derek on the shoulder, turning to leave, but Derek caught his wrist.

“Uncle Peter, wait.” 

Stiles bit back a smile. Derek only ever called Peter uncle when he was feeling nostalgic or emotional. 

Derek’s throat worked, and he looked at Stiles, his eyes suddenly filled with nerves, before his gaze flicked over to the sheriff. Stiles raised an eyebrow when the sheriff nodded with a reassuring smile, watching as Derek’s face solidified with resolve as he turned back to Peter. 

“Just, hang on a second, okay? I want you here for this.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, but then one corner of his lips pulled up and he nodded, clapping Derek on the back. 

“Get on with it, then.”

Derek glared at him, but it didn’t hold any heat. “I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared upstairs, and Stiles watched with growing confusion as the pack started to practically vibrate with excitement. 

Scott was beaming at Stiles. Allison, with one hand on her swollen stomach, was standing with Erica and Lydia, and they were all giggling. Jackson and Cora were both failing miserably at looking uninterested, matching smirks on their faces. Isaac was gently rocking his and Cora’s ten-month-old son, Matthew, casting very unsubtle glances towards the stairs with a large grin splitting his face. Even the usually stoic Boyd looked excited. 

What the hell was happening, and why did everyone apparently know except him? 

Melissa was biting her lip, apparently trying to tamp down on a smile, while Chris Argent had moved to stand next to Peter. They were conversing softly, soft smiles on both of their faces as they glanced at Stiles, and what the hell, when did they start being a thing because that seemed like it may go somewhere and he needed to know everything about that for _reasons_ , but it was going to have to wait because Derek was coming back down the stairs and everyone went unnervingly still. 

The sheriff gently shook Stiles by the shoulder once, letting him go to ruffle his hair before stepping away and over to Melissa. 

Stiles knew he had to look completely lost. “Uh...Der? What’s- what’s going on here? Is everything okay? Like, on a scale of life-threatening supernatural to-”

“Stiles, calm down,” Derek said, and he sounded amused, but he looked nervous. “It’s nothing bad. I mean, I don’t think it’s bad. _I_ don’t think it’s bad, anyway, but you-”

“It’s not bad,” Allison cut in, clearly fighting laughter. 

“We talked about this, son,” the sheriff said, smiling at Derek. “Go ahead.”

Derek licked his lips, turning back to Stiles. “So, I- well, I was going to do this later, after everyone left but...now, now seems as good a time as any.”

Stiles felt his eyes go wide as he finally clues into what was happening. His heart started pounding and Derek looked like he was about to freak out, which was so not allowed because Derek had a question to ask and Stiles absolutely needed to hear it, so Stiles bit his lips on the beginning of a smile, gesturing for Derek to continue. 

Derek seemed to relax marginally, even managing a smile. He reached for Stiles’ hand, which Stiles gave immediately, and knelt to the ground on one knee. 

“Stiles, I’ve known you for nine years, and though I can’t say they’ve been the best of my life-”

Stiles snorted out a laugh, and Derek grinned, looking even more confident. 

“I can say that the moments I’ve spent with you will forever be with me, the good and the bad. We’ve been dating for three years now, and like Peter was saying, you’ve brought me back to the person I used to be. You’ve made me happy, which I never thought would have been possible after everything that’s happened, but you did. You do. 

“I didn’t think that I deserved someone like you, but you were the one to prove to me that I do. And I’m going to keep working every single day to deserve you, Stiles, because you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re infuriating, clumsy, brilliant, gorgeous, loyal, brave- stupidly brave, and just so fucking perfect. I love you, so much, Stiles, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So I wanted to ask... will- will you marry me?”

Stiles couldn’t speak for fear of crying. There was a huge lump in his throat and it felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, so he settled for nodding like a maniac. 

Derek’s whole face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Stiles choked out. “Yes! Jesus, Derek, yes, of course! Oh my god.”

Cheers erupted from the pack, but Stiles barely heard them. He launched himself at Derek, actually knocking the werewolf to the ground. 

Derek laughed, wrapping his arms around Stiles as the younger man cupped his face, littering it with kisses until he landed on his mouth, kissing him hard. 

He broke away after a few moments because they were both smiling too much for it to be a proper kiss. 

Derek sat up, propping himself on an elbow; Stiles settled so that he was kneeling on either side of Derek’s hips as Derek opened the small box he had grabbed from their bedroom. 

Inside was a simple golden band, slightly dull from years of being worn, strung on a thin chain. 

Stiles gasped, eyes flicking between Derek and the ring. 

“Is this...was this…”

“My father’s,” Derek admits. “If you don’t like it, I figured we could go out and choose a new one together, but-“

“Shut up, dumbass, I love it,” Stiles declared with a wide grin. “Can I have it now?”

“Impatient,” Derek teased, but the effect was ruined by his wide smile. He gently took the chain out of the box, and Stiles bowed his head so that Derek could hang it around his neck. He purposely tilted his head to the side, baring his neck. The symbolism wasn’t lost on Derek, if the sharp intake of breath was anything to go by. 

Stiles looked up once the chain was settled around his neck, the ring resting over his heart.

Derek met his eyes, then lowered his gaze, tilting his head and baring his neck in return. 

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat and his eyes started burning with unshed tears. 

“Oh, fuck you,” he muttered, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, determined not to cry. 

Derek just laughed delightedly, grabbing Stiles around the waist again and burying his face in his neck. 

“I love you.”

Stiles nuzzled his nose against Derek’s temple, pressing a kiss there before pulling away to look at him again. 

“Did you actually ask my father permission to marry me?”

Derek laughed, shaking his head. “Sort of. I asked him what he thought, and for advice. He was very helpful.”

Stiles kissed his cheek before standing, tugging Derek up with him. He turned to his dad, who was standing with an arm wrapped around Melissa, watching with a proud smile. 

“Thanks, Pops,” Stiles said sincerely. 

His dad beamed at him, striding over and pulling Stiles into his arms for a tight hug. 

“Congratulations, kiddo. And just so you know, Derek came to me about eight months ago.”

Stiles thought of the box he had hidden upstairs and pulled back slightly to narrow his eyes at his father. “Eight months? Really Dad?”

John smirked knowingly. Before he could say anything, however, Derek cleared his throat awkwardly, which meant that he was embarrassed- successfully interrupting Stiles’ train of thought. 

John turned to Derek, grabbing him and hugging him too. Derek froze for only a second before melting into the hug. 

Stiles found himself being tackled from behind, Scott’s self-restraint having apparently run out. 

“About damn time!” He yelled into his ear. 

Stiles laughed, turning so he could hug Scott properly. “You took two years just to ask Allison to move in with you.”

“Today’s about you,” Scott deflected, slapping Stiles on the back and pulling away and turning to Derek. 

Melissa was next, a stray tear slipping down her face. “I’m so happy for you two, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mel.”

Then it was Chris, Allison, Isaac, Erica- who jumped on both Stiles and Derek and nearly brought them back to the ground- Boyd, Jackson, Lydia, then Cora. Finally it was just Peter, who pulled Derek into another tight hug. Stiles had never seen the man so affectionate without being drunk on wolfsbane-alcohol or near death. 

“Congratulations, kid,” he murmured before pulling away. He rested a hand on the back of Derek’s neck, looking into his eyes seriously. His own blue eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Derek, they would have been so proud of you.”

Derek inhaled sharply, and Stiles felt his own breath stutter. Peter smiled sincerely, squeezing Derek’s shoulder once before turning his gaze to Stiles. 

“And Stiles, they would have absolutely loved you.”

Stiles’ heart rose into his throat and his breath caught in his chest. He reached out, pulling the older man into another hug. 

“I didn’t know you could be this…”

“Sappy?” Peter suggested. 

_“Happy,”_ Stiles corrected. 

Derek smiled, resting a hand on Stiles’ lower back as he and Peter separated. 

“I’m not the only one coming back to myself,” he said softly. 

Stiles saw Peter’s throat work as his face did something complicated. 

“Yes, well, I seem to have remembered what’s important in life,” Peter said gruffly, stepping away. 

Stiles watched as he walked back over to Chris, who smiled at the wolf. 

Stiles nudged Derek gently, and Derek snickered into his hair. 

The Christmas/Derek’s birthday party turned into a Christmas/Derek’s birthday/ _engagement_ party, and Lydia broke out the good champagne that she had somehow hidden in the back of Derek and Stiles’ pantry. 

Stiles sat on the couch, his head laying against Derek’s, their temples resting against each other. Despite all the room on the couch, they were pressed together from shoulders to hips, their fingers intertwined and legs tangled together. 

Stiles’ book was spread across their laps, and they were both reading it. Stiles nudged Derek’s shoulder and Derek used his free hand to press a sticky note on the page, and Stiles used his free hand to scribble down an observation. 

“You know, your birthday gift is upstairs,” Stiles commented casually. 

He could _feel_ Derek’s smirk. “Oh yeah?”

Stiles elbowed him in the ribs, and Derek didn’t even flinch. “Not that. Geez, did you not get enough this morning?” He teased. 

“I’ll never get enough of you,” Derek murmured, nosing at his hairline before pressing a kiss there. 

Stiles snorted, but he turned and tilted his head for a proper kiss. 

“Anyway,” he said when they broke apart. “That’s later.”

Derek grinned smugly, settling back into their original position, and Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“I thought I already got my gift from you,” Derek said, and he wasn’t making an innuendo this time. Stiles had gifted him a tickets to an exclusive car show in L.A., which had earned him a blowjob in the shower. 

“That was your Christmas gift,” Stiles said dismissively. “This is your birthday gift. Scotty,” he called. 

Scott looked over from where he was shoving leftover cake into his mouth, an arm wrapped around Allison’s waist. 

“Can you run upstairs for me? In my nightstand there’s an envelope, can you bring it down?”

Scott shot him a thumbs up, disentangling himself from his wife and swallowing his mouthful of cake and bounding up the stairs. 

A few seconds later there was a strangled, horrified yell from the bedroom. 

It took Stiles all of two seconds to realize what had happened. He cringed before laughing so hard that he would have fallen off of the couch had Derek not been holding him. Even Derek was chuckling softly, but his ears were bright red. 

“Scott,” Stiles wheezed. “That’s Derek’s nightstand. Mine’s on the left side.” 

Scott came back downstairs a few moments later, seemingly traumatized- he looked disgusted, his lips curled and his face bright red. He was clutching the envelope in his fist. 

“I hate you so much right now,” he muttered, not looking either Derek or Stiles in the eye. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“I assumed you’d know which one was mine, you know, with the wolf senses.”

“It smells too much like both of you in there,” Scott whined. 

Derek pushed his nose into Stiles’ neck, and Stiles could feel his lips curling up. 

“I can feel your smugness, Sourwolf, knock it off,” Stiles said, elbowing Derek again. “Also, Scott, I think it’s kind of obvious which one is mine, I mean, we shared a dorm, when have you ever known me to keep my side of the room clean?”

“Shut up.” Scott glared at the wall over Stiles’ shoulder. “It was an easy mistake, and now I know things that no man needs to know about his brother.”

“Hey, sometimes Derek uses them too,” Stiles pointed out. “They’re in his nightstand, after all.”

Scott clapped a hand over his ears. “Shut up! Just stop, please,” he whined. “I don’t need to know that about Derek either, he’s my friend and my beta!”

Stiles smirked. Derek jabbed him in the ribs, and Stiles just waggled his eyebrows. 

“I can’t decide if I want to puke or know more,” Erica declared, leering at them. 

“I’m gonna go with puke,” Jackson said. “You two are lucky that the adults are in the kitchen.”

Stiles blanched at the thought of his father hearing that conversation. Or Mrs. McCall. 

Derek tensed as well, and Stiles shuddered at the thought. As if they had been summoned, the four elders walked back into the room. 

“Okay, changing the subject now, Derek, open your gift,” Stiles said, shoving the gift into his boyfriend- no, fiancé’s- hand. 

Derek rolled his eyes, sighing like he was put out, but he untangled himself from Stiles and sat so he was facing him. 

“Alright, let’s see,” he said under his breath, gently unfolding the flap. 

Stiles bit his lip as he watched nervously. 

Derek froze halfway through pulling the contents out, his whole body going stiff. 

“Stiles,” he whispered, slowly pulling out the pictures all the way. He held them gently, like they were fragile- which they kind of were. “Is this…”

Stiles nodded as Derek looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Yeah. Um, Dad finally got the papers passed to get the stuff from the evidence room. The- the key is in the envelope too, but Dad and I were able to take out one box right away and I found those pictures, and I thought you might want them.” 

Derek looked between the envelope and Stiles a few times without saying anything. 

“Der? Is- is it too much? Did I overstep? I’m sorry, I-”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Derek murmured, surging forward and locking Stiles in an embrace. “This is- I don’t have any words. This is amazing, Stiles. Thank you, so much.”

Stiles relaxed in Derek’s grip, squeezing him back once before pulling away. Derek pulled the key out of the envelope and sent it delicately on the table. 

“Thank you, John,” he said to the sheriff, standing and pulling him into a hug. 

The sheriff smiled and patted his back gently. “I’m sorry it took so long. I meant to have it done years ago, but there were a lot of issues with paperwork, new hires losing the papers, etcetera.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Derek declared as he pulled back. “I thought I was never getting any of it, and now I’ve got it all. Thank you.”

The sheriff smiled gently and clapped Derek on the shoulder. “Least I could do, son.”

Once Derek settled back on the couch, Stiles curled himself back around him. Derek picked up the stack of pictures, and the pack gathered around. 

Derek let out a wet laugh. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this, I thought these were gone. Cora, Uncle Peter, look.” 

His sister and uncle stepped up behind the couch, looking over his shoulder. 

“Is that…” Cora asked slowly. 

“Your mother,” Peter confirmed. “And your father.”

The picture was a candid of Talia Hale laughing, her face smeared with flour and blue icing, and a man that looked like an older Derek with his arms wrapped around her waist from behind, laughing into her neck. 

“Der, you look just like him,” Cora said softly. 

“But you have your mother’s eyes,” Peter added. “I took this picture. She was trying to make Derek’s third birthday cake.”

Derek tilted his head. “Mom never baked.”

Peter snorted. “That’s why I said she was _trying._ She was a great alpha, an amazing lawyer, but she couldn’t bake for her life. That cake was her second attempt, and she burnt it; the first had been undercooked. The third tasted like rubber, and the fourth somehow exploded in the oven. That’s when Joseph decided to step in, and he made it perfectly on his first try.”

Derek and Cora both laughed. 

“I remember for my seventh birthday, she tried to make cupcakes for my class,” Cora said fondly. “Half were hard as bricks, and the others bounced like rubber somehow.”

“I remember that,” Derek said slowly, his lips quirking up. “Laura and I played catch with them. We broke Grandma’s vase and Dad just laughed and said he always hated that thing.”

“It was ugly as sin,” Peter agreed. “Horrible. My mother didn’t have the best taste.”

“Can I see?” Boyd asked softly, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. 

Derek smiled at him and handed the picture over. 

And that’s how it went for the rest of the photos. Derek and Peter, and sometimes Cora, would describe the background of each, sparking memories and stories of their lives before the tragedies. Then they would pass the pictures around and the pack would coo over them. 

Stiles watched contentedly, curled against Derek. He looked around at his pack, lazily cataloguing each of them. 

Allison and Scott were curled up on the large loveseat, Scott with his hand resting on Allison’s belly. For all their ups and downs, the two of them had beat the odds and tied the knot four years ago, six months after Erica and Boyd. A modern-day Romeo and Juliet, but, you know, with a much happier ending. 

Erica and Boyd were sitting at Derek’s feet, fingers tangled together, their matching rings glinting in the light. Their three-year-old daughter, Cleo, was asleep on the bed in the guest room, where she had been playing after dessert. 

Cora was sitting on the other side of Derek on the couch, Matthew on her lap, cooing to him about each picture. Isaac sat at her feet next to Erica and Boyd, his head resting on her knees, one hand on her ankle and one resting on his son’s foot. Stiles smiled at the sight- Isaac had been petrified of becoming a father, for obvious reasons, but Stiles didn’t think he had ever seen a parent more attentive and loving than Isaac. Cora was an amazing mother as well, which, if Stiles was being honest, had surprised him a little bit. 

Lydia was sitting on Jackson’s lap, his arms around her waist and his chin hooked over her shoulder. One hand was resting on her flat stomach and Stiles narrowed his eyes at them, pointedly flicking his eyes between the hand and Lydia’s steady gaze. She raised an eyebrow and Stiles could practically see her deciding whether or not to lie. Finally, she let out a small sigh, her whole body melting into Jackson. She shot him a genuine smile before pursing her lips in a _shhh_ gesture. Stiles beamed at her and mouthed _congratulations_. He knew that they had been trying for a long time, and were beginning to worry. 

The sheriff and Mrs. McCall were sitting on the small couch, Melissa’s head resting on John’s shoulder. Stiles exchanged a glance with Scott, and they smiled at their parents- they had been trying to set them up since they were teenagers, and they finally got married two years ago. 

Peter was sitting on the floor across from Erica and Boyd, leaning his back against the coffee table, watching Derek fondly. Stiles took a few moments to marvel at how far he’d come. Obviously, they had all changed over the years, but Peter had changed the most drastically, and it had never been more clear than today. 

Next to him sat Chris Argent, and Stiles saw his pinkie hooked around Peter’s. This time he exchanged a look with Allison, who was looking between the two and smirking. Stiles waggled his eyebrows at her and she made a face at him, sticking her tongue out and crossing her eyes, but she finished with a smile. 

Derek laughed next to him, loud and booming, and Stiles smiled at him proudly. 

Much, much later, after everyone had left, Derek and Stiles were lying in bed, Stiles with his back pressed against Derek’s chest and Derek lightly tracing patterns across Stiles’ sweaty chest. 

“Stiles,” Derek whispered into his ear. 

“Hmm?” Stiles hummed, trying to calm his breathing, still coming down from his post-orgasm high. 

“Thank you.”

“Mmm, for what?”

Derek continued dancing his fingers around Stiles’ chest. 

“Everything. The tickets. The pictures. The key.” Derek punctuated each item with a kiss to Stiles’ shoulder. “Being you. Saying yes.”

Stiles hummed deep the back of his throat, pushing himself back against Derek and capturing the hand moving across his torso and bringing it to his lips before tangling their fingers together. He brought their joined hands to his chest, resting them over the ring, right over his heart. 

“You never have to thank me for saying yes, Derek,” he said seriously. “That makes it seem like I’m doing you a favor. I love you, and I want to marry you. In fact, I was thinking about proposing soon.”

Derek tightened his grip on the younger man, and Stiles could feel the pleased growl rumbling against his back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I’m kinda glad you beat me to it, because I have no idea how to propose to someone. I probably would have lost the ring or, like, tried to get down on one knee and fallen over. No one wants a proposal to end in the emergency room.”

Derek growled in Stiles’ ear, nipping at the lobe. Stiles shivered- he couldn’t help it, it was a Pavlovian reaction by now. 

“Stop that,” Derek murmured. “Whatever you did would have been perfect.”

“Even if I ended up in the emergency room?”

Derek laughed softly. “Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be perfect if you got hurt, but it’s not like I would have said no.”

Warmth spread through Stiles’ chest. “That’s...good to know.”

Derek nuzzled against his neck. “Good.”

“Because I may have been a little dishonest about how long I’ve been thinking about proposing,” Stiles admitted. 

Derek hummed questioningly. 

Stiles stretched over for his nightstand, ignoring Derek’s discontented grumble, opening the drawer and fishing through it. His hand closed on a small box and he pulled it out, turning onto his other side so that he was facing Derek. 

“Here. You don’t have to wear it, but-”

A soft smile spread across Derek’s face, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to Stiles’ lips. “Of course I’ll wear it. When did you buy it?”

Stiles exhaled a soft laugh. “I didn’t, exactly.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, and Stiles opened the box. Derek’s breath caught, looking between the silver band and Stiles, a question in his eyes. 

“My dad’s first wedding ring,” Stiles confirmed with a smile. “I went to him six months ago, and he gave it to me. That’s why I was kinda surprised when he told me how long ago you started planning. But seriously, we were both going to propose with our father’s rings?”

Derek let out a happy laugh. “And they’re both on chains. Great minds think alike.”

He pulled out the chain and handed it to Stiles, and they repeated the process from downstairs; Derek bowing his head and baring his neck to Stiles, and once Stiles looped the chain around his neck he bared his neck to Derek. 

When they finished Derek leaned in, and they kissed languidly for awhile. They only stopped when Stiles yawned into Derek’s mouth. 

Derek laughed at him, but he yawned as soon as he started teasing. Stiles grinned and poked him, and Derek flashed his eyes and growled, grabbing Stiles and flipping him onto his side, wrestling him back into their previous position, holding him tightly. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re an aggressive cuddler?” Stiles asked through a yawn. 

Derek pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “So many times.”

Stiles laughed, turning his head towards Derek as much as he could, and Derek met him with a soft, lingering kiss. Stiles sighed when they pulled apart, scooting back until his back was flush with Derek’s chest, tangling their legs together as he laid his head down. 

“Merry Christmas, Stiles.”

“Happy Birthday, Derek.”


End file.
